The trees are red…

This morning, over unexpected waffles and unexpectedly being in my department’s tea room, someone mentioned that all the trees in one of my town’s main streets had been wrapped in red cloth. Somebody mentioned that it was the doing of landscape artist Strijdom van der Merwe – which rang a bell – and I subsequently decided to go and have a look. I forgot, and was later,during random wanderous shopping, reminded. So I went.

 

I drove my little red car along the street that I’ve driven it along countless times. It looked pretty damn cool. But while I was driving, I started feeling sad. Sad in that almost-wanting-to-cry-but-not-quite-having-wet-cheeks kind of way. Why? I was asking myself whist driving. I came up with a combination of missing wanting to be somebody else, not really needing to impress anybody with being cool, somebody that i don’t know who died unexpectedly, the dirtyness of my flat, missing a winetour on Saturday and the rainy time that is up ahead. And on the way back along the street, I found myself wondering whether that is not what realty makes it art and not just some sort of urban decoration – the ability to go beyond looking cool and to actually affect people in some way or another. The medium gives the piece instant exposure -and the ability to touch non-artgoers; the people who don’t read books or go to galleries on seek these things in other places. Which perhaps REALLY makes it art.

 

Which makes me wish a little bit that I was an artist and not a chemist… 

I love my monster!

After a friend told me that the reason why she hasn’t been spending much time with me is because she’s been spending a lot of her time on a particular website – one with pet monsters – I went to check out Moshimonsters . I subsequently adopted a monster, because I have a bit of a weakness for cute furry (or non-furry) monsters. The whole concept around the website is combining social networking (for kids) with a virtual pet. The most awesome thing is how cute they are! Check out my monster here. Enjoy! (And I hope that you don’t get as hooked as I did!)

Been away for a while…

Recent(ish) things that happened…

1 ) My thesis topic changed drastically about a month ago, doing the same sort of project still but on something different.

2 ) I started working at a wine farm on occasional weekends.

3 ) I saw Muse (etc) live a couple of weeks ago. Awesome!

4 ) Winter has sortof started, but also not, which is weird.

5 ) have started trying to catch up on all the foreign movies I’ve missed out on all this time.

6 ) Have joined a wine analysis panel, which means that I have to sniff several galsses of wine every morning, which means no more going out in the week for me!

7 ) Have become mildly addicted to Questionable Content.

8 ) And the rest is history…

My shoes! My shoes! I found them!

Black pumps. There are many many things that I can say about black pumps, but I’m going to try to say not that many many. I like them. A lot. I wear them. A lot. I wear them out really really quickly… Which mean that these shoes usually need to be replaced every couple of months. This is not as fun as it sounds though. Yes, HAVING to go shoe shopping is not actually every girl’s dream! I am extremely picky and always have trouble finding shoes that fit, as my feet were not ‘designed’ with the ‘ideal proportions’ in mind. (I often find it rather annoying that pants, for example, come in a variety of cuts and proportions to suit different body shapes; and pants are something that can be altered! You can’t do that with shoes!) Anyway, so last year, I thought I had it waxed, because I purchased two pairs of black pumps; firstly because hopefully they won’t wear out so quickly, and secondly, in order to have a back-up pair should the one pair get thrashed. However, when I went on a very very long December holiday, I only took one of these pairs along, and when I returned to my flat, the other pair was nowhere to be found. I searched everywhere (or so I thought). Nothing. It was sortof OK though, because I had another pair… The shoes would turn up eventually, won’t they? But then something dismal happened. My other pair got worn out. So worn out, in fact, that I was embarrassed to wear them in public. Which made the disappearance of the other pair more of a crisis. I searched. I made phone calls. Nothing. And then, the other day, when I was packing to go camping, I found the lost shoes between some shopping bags in my garage. How they got there, I have absolutely no idea. But yay yay yay yay! Outfits work again!

What should my next blog post be about?

I’ve actually had too many ideas for a next blog post to actually settle on one (and writing several seems like too much work), so I would like to propose a poll. I shall list several ideas I had, and should I get a positive response regarding one of these topics, I may (or may not) write this blogpost. Here goes:

1) Annoyances with undergrads (general)

2 ) Annoyances with undergrads (slow-moving, traffic jamming)

3) Renting two bad movies on Saturday night

4) My new copy of Nylon Magazine

5) Mounting excitement for Cokefest

6) My deadline that has moved to today

Please vote now to avoid disappointment!

Just another cliche to add to the ones already prevalent on this day

Aww…Valentine’s day! How awesome! Cute couples everywhere, people walking around with flowers, people dressed to match the day… it all makes me want to vomit! Seriously, I thought that having a wonderful somebody to celebrate this not-so-wonderful day would somehow change my sentiment about it… It didn’t. I still think it’s lame and commercial and superficial (and that it often causes unnecessary trouble between  people due to unmet expectations). So lame, in fact, that I’m actually ignoring it in a way, trying not to mention it unless it is mentioned first. As I’m trying to actually ignore this day, I seriously tried not to wear red or pink or hearts or anything like that today. I failed. I failed because I was in a bit of a rush this morning and I just wanted to wear something that made me feel comfortable and good and like myself. Because I dress like it’s Valentine’s day every day; I’m always wearing something red (or pink) or some sort of heart accessory. (My red shoes are a current favourite). Not really for of any reason except that i like it… but maybe it’s connected to that intrinsic belief that it should  be Valentine’s day every single day.

Things I love/hate about my student car

Things I love about my car:

1) It’s red

2) It used to belong to my cool grandmother

3) It can actually drive kinda fast

4) It gets me from place to place

5) Its quite light on petrol

6) It’s almost the same age as me

7) The lack of power steering trains my upper arms

8) It has a really big boot

9)  It can pull away in second (and even sometimes third) gear

10) It reminds me of so many awesome times at different stages in my life

11) It treats you well if you treat it well

Things I hate about my car: 

1) It doesn’t have air conditioning

2) It doesn’t have a radio

3) It doesn’t have central locking

4) It doesn’t have power steering

5) It still needs petrol to make it go from place to place

6) It loses license plates really easily

7) It’s almost the same age as me

8) The seats are supposed to flatten completely but it doesn’t really work anymore

9) It makes a REALLY funny noise when it’s hot and bothered (very embarrassing in traffic)

10) There something wrong with the paint on the bonnet

11) It struggles to start in winter, especially if you don’t know how to work the manual choke properly

I’ve lost my heart… to a magazine

Yesterday afternoon, during the last minutes that the shops were open in the town whose streets I was strolling on (heading for a bad movie) is spotted a word. Or was it the typeface too? Or the whole cover? That led me to the magical realisation. NYLON. I have found a new(ish) copy of NYLON magazine. Peace, love and fluffy animals!

See, I absolutely adore this wonderful piece of magazinistry (because I always feel awkward calling magazines journalism); it is everything I could ever want from a magazine and nothing I could not. And it’s unfortunately not particularly available in this remote little country at the south of Africa. And because of the Africa part of my location, I have always failed to subscribe. Which is why I delight in moments like these!

Yay the universe!

The flight of the olive trees

I am flying back home tomorrow with not one, not two, but three young olive trees in my left hand/ ‘hand luggage’. I have absolutely no idea whether or not there are any regulations in this country against the transport of olive trees by air, and whether or not the poor, tried together meticulously packaged saplings will survive this great journey. Although it is bound to be the greatest adventure they will ever have, and when they are old the will probably tell their your seedlings about it under the glow of a Lowveld sunset…

I am a cliche… (for writing about this. Today)

Last night, the Springboks won the Rugby World Cup. Jay! Not Jay! in an oh-my-word-this-is the-most-awesome-thing-that-has-ever-happened kind of way, but just Jay! in a relieved kind of way. Yesterday afternoon, however, I found myself in a bit of a crisis; I didn’t know how I was supposed to act in a situation like this, South Africa being in the World Cup Final and all. Like all people like to blame their parent for their shortcomings, and I often like to blame my parents for my confusion in certain social situations. (It took me a while to figure out how one is actually supposed to act over weekends; I’m still not that great at it.)  This specific social situation was presented particularly large challenge. See; on 22 June, 1995 – when the Spingboks won their previous World Cup Final – my family was in the State Theatre watching The Merry Widow. Yes, one the the reasons for this is the fact that my family (read: my dad) are not the world’s largest rugby fans, but also because we got the tickets months before. We never expected South Africa to be in the final, and tickets for the opera are hard to come by! At least one of the actors worked the line ” I’ve got only one consolation for you; the Boks won 15-12″ into their performance. Jay for improvisation!

But see, last night I was confused about what I was supposed to do with myself? Was I supposed to continue with my reclusive plans and watch the rugby with half an eye (because I was curious, but rugby, as a sport, bores me visually), or was I supposed to get all psyched up, go to someones house, drink, celebrate, etc. even though I didn’t really feel like seeing anybody? I had no previous experience to fall back on for this specific situation, and all previous rugby matches have always been treated with a mild indifference. They would be watched if it so happened that you were watching them, but if you weren’t so what? I went with the former option; the chilled-out half-an-eye one. Feel free to call me a loser, unpatriotic, weird. I don’t care. I had fun. I love South Africa, and am incredibly proud of our team. I’m also particualarly glad about the general improvement in national morale that is about to occur. (I like it when other people are as positive about our country as I am.)I just didn’t feel like ‘kuiering’ last night just because everybody else was.

And for this, I shall blame my parents.

P.S. In the defence of my parents; yes, they are a little odd, but not all sporting events are treated with such indifference. Wimbledon is big! And I know for a fact that they watched the rugby last night. ANd I did watch a the game with half an eye; and it was equally boring to the game played on 22 June 1995.